


The Knife Game

by HardlyQuinn



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Background D. Va, Background Jack Morrison, Background Lúcio, Background Mercy, First Kiss, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Some knife play but not in a sexy way, oh god the fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-09-01 21:53:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8639617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HardlyQuinn/pseuds/HardlyQuinn
Summary: McCree demonstrates a 'game' he learned back in his days with Blackwatch, and Hanzo pays the price for curiosity. Genji just wants some damn cookies.





	

_Tunk. Tunk. Tunk._ Eyes followed the knife, bemused as the blade danced between the splayed fingers of McCree’s left hand.

            “ _Oh, I have all my fingers, the knife goes chop, chop, chop._

_If I miss the spaces in between, my fingers will come off._

_And if I hit my fingers, blood will soon come out -_

_But, all the same, I play this game, ‘cause that’s what I’m all about_ -”

            McCree sang, the knife carving out small chunks of table with every movement. Genji lounged easily in his chair, eyeing the familiar game with amusement. He chuckled as he spied Jack wandering by on his way to the kitchen, forehead creased with a combination of apprehension and annoyance at the state McCree was leaving the base's best table in. Lucio was half-watching out of the corner of his eye, pretending to read something on his tablet but flinching minutely with every _thunk_ of the blade barely missing McCree's fingers. Hana was perched on her elbows, leaning across the table with her attention entirely focused on the cowboy. McCree reached the end of the song and stabbed at the table in victory, leaving the knife standing straight up out of the woodwork. Lucio let out a sigh of relief and returned to his reading as Hana whooped in victory.

            “You have gotten better at that since the last time I saw you.” Genji commented, disengaging his visor so he could sip at his neglected tea. McCree offered him a lopsided grin and examined his cybernetic hand for any stray knife marks.

            “Reckon I could take on even you, pretty soon.” McCree drawled. Genji rolled his eyes.

            “Need I remind you of the last time you challenged me? Torbjorn almost refused to replace those fingers.” Genji teased. McCree turned a light shade of pink.

            “Aww, he wouldn'a left me missin' my trigger finger.” McCree waved his flesh hand dismissively, then absentmindedly rubbed at the cybernetic fingers in question. “Jack would'a made him fix me up sooner 'r later.”

            “Like hell I would've,” Jack called from the kitchen. Genji snickered into his tea. Jack leaned against the doorway, glaring at the both of them over a steaming mug of coffee. “You do something stupid like that again and I'll have him remove the whole hand. Then we'll see how talented you are with only one.”

            “Your mom ain't never had any complaints.” McCree offered, shrugging. Genji spluttered into his tea, choking as he doubled over laughing. Jack sighed and shook his head, flashing McCree a rude hand gesture as he went back to lunch prep, squeezing past Hanzo in the narrow space. The oldest Shimada quirked an eyebrow at Jack's retreating form, carefully balancing a small plate of cookies on top of his own mug of tea as the soldier pushed past him. Hanzo made his way over to the table, taking a seat next to McCree and ignoring the gleam of mischief in Genji's eyes at his close proximity to the man he did _not_ have a romantic interest in, _thank you very much, Genji._

“What have you done to irritate our commander this time?” Hanzo questioned, nibbling at one of his cookies and pulling the plate out of Genji's reach. The younger Shimada pouted.

            “We were jus' playin' a game is all.” McCree shrugged, stealing one of Hanzo's cookies and popping the entire thing in his mouth. Genji growled, trying once again to snag a cookie but finding himself thwarted by Hanzo's reflexes.

            “And what game might that be?” Hanzo asked, sliding the plate between himself and McCree. Genji glared pointedly at Hanzo as McCree grabbed another cookie, completely unopposed by Hanzo. Hanzo met Genji's gaze coolly, the corner of his mouth twitching up slightly as Genji huffed and snapped his visor back into place.

            “A little thing I learned back in Blackwatch,” McCree mumbled around a mouth full of cookie. “Used to drive our medics up a wall. Y'see,” McCree swallowed his cookie and yanked his knife out of the table, flashing it at Hanzo. “Y'take a knife, like this one – nice and sharp – and then ya hold out yer hand-”

            “Perhaps a practical demonstration would be more beneficial to my brother,” Genji interrupted, tilting his head to the side as he pondered the knife in McCree's hand. “Hanzo has always preferred practical demonstration over words. Have you not?”

            Hanzo frowned as down the table, Hana let out an excited gasp and Lucio looked up in curiosity. Hanzo's gaze flickered to Genji's, and he felt his eyes narrow slightly as he met the emotionless mask of his brother, who, Hanzo had no doubt, was grinning wildly beneath his visor. Genji was lounging conspiratorially across the table towards himself and McCree in a manner that might have fooled others into thinking they were having a friendly conversation; the older Shimada, however, knew Genji's body language well enough to recognize when he was about to have a bad time. McCree frowned for a moment, then beamed as his face suddenly lit up with realization and a hint of glee. Hanzo briefly contemplated running, only to find his train of thought thoroughly derailed by a rough, calloused hand covering his own.

            “Ya mind, darlin'?” McCree rumbled, sending a wave of heat through the archer that had absolutely nothing to do with his apprehension of what this 'game' might entail. He met the cowboy's warm brown eyes and felt his resolve fly out the window. Absently, he registered a quiet snicker from the cyborg still seated across from them, pulling him back to reality.

            “Of course not.” Hanzo scoffed, sitting up straight. McCree grinned, shifting in close and pulling Hanzo's left hand over in front of him. McCree gently coaxed him to splay his fingers open wide, then covered them with his own cybernetic ones. Hanzo felt a pang of loss as cool metal replaced the warmth of McCree's skin.

            “Now hold reeeaal still, darlin'. I'd hate t' be responsible for you losin' one of them pretty l'il fingers,” McCree crooned, picking up his knife in his right hand once more and carefully positioning it on the table just below his and Hanzo's thumbs. “We'll start out nice 'n slow.” Hanzo felt his heart rate increase as McCree shifted in his chair, warmth from his body seeping into Hanzo's side as he began to sing.

            “ _Oh, I have all my fingers, the knife goes chop, chop, chop,”_

            Hanzo's eyes went wide as McCree carefully stabbed out a pattern between their fingers with his knife, jumping from just below their thumbs and up into the spaces between their fingers before slamming back home beside their wrists once more. He felt his body tense as McCree's knife flashed between each splay of their fingers, signaling the end of one round and starting back below the thumbs once more, picking up speed.  
  
_"If I miss the spaces in between, my fingers will come off._

_And if I hit my fingers, blood will soon come out -_

_But, all the same, I play this game, ‘cause that’s what I’m all about,"_

            Hanzo could feel the combined gaze of Lucio, Hana and Genji all focused entirely on himself and McCree, but couldn't seem to persuade his eyes to look anywhere other than at the sure movements and rapidly increasing blur of the sharp blade between his fingers. McCree paused for a brief moment, and a flash of relief streaked through Hanzo before the knife began to stab out its pattern once more at an alarming pace.

            _“Oh, chop, chop, chop, chop, chop, chop, chop,_

_I'm picking up the speed,”_

Hanzo thought his chest might explode at the rate his heart was pounding.

 _“- and if I hit my fingers, then my hand will start to bleed_! _”_

Hanzo refused to believe that the undignified yelp following the final slam of the knife into the table came from himself. His tablemates all burst into laughter, applauding and cheering as Hanzo carefully slid his perfectly intact hand out from under McCree's. Hanzo could feel his face reddening in embarrassment as he released the breath he hadn't realized he was holding in, raising his hand to his face and wiggling his fingers experimentally as he checked for damage. McCree beamed at him, his own face tinged slightly pink in what Hanzo suspected was his own relief.

            “That was... impressive.” Hanzo offered after a moment, provoking another burst of laughter from further down the table. Genji snickered, and Hanzo looked up, belatedly realizing his brother had removed his visor once more and seized the opportunity of Hanzo's distraction to steal the remainder of his cookies. Genji smirked as he licked some crumbs off of his fingers, pushing the now empty plate off to one side.

            “You say you learned this in Blackwatch?” Hanzo asked, returning his focus to McCree. McCree nodded, absentmindedly playing with the knife still embedded in the table.

            “Don't remember who it was that taught it to me – s'pect it was Reyes, but now that I'm thinkin' on it, it might'a been Ana, too.” The cowboy frowned, rubbing at his beard. Hanzo shot a sly look at Genji out of the corner of his eyes, seeing his posture go rigid as the archer reached for the knife.

            “I think I should like to learn how this feat is accomplished,” Hanzo mused, easily slipping the knife out of McCree's grasp. He turned to his brother, eyebrows raised in a crude imitation of innocent curiosity as he held up the blade. “Perhaps my brother would be willing to assist us?”

            Genji swore and nearly toppled his chair as he darted out of the room, leaving everyone helpless with laughter as Hanzo neatly placed the knife back on the table. After several long moments, McCree wiped tears of mirth from his eyes, still grinning from ear to ear.

            “You, uh... still wanna learn how that's done?” He asked, motioning to the blade. Hanzo felt his cheeks warm at the thought of McCree's hand over his own once more and opened his mouth to respond, only to be cut off by an enthusiastic squeal.

            “Oh! Oh! I wanna do it!” Hana yelled, waving one arm wildly in the air as if concerned that McCree might not notice her. McCree nodded, picking up the knife and motioning for Hana to move closer. She bolted around the table, allowing McCree to take her hand as he had Hanzo's and walking her slowly through the motions, occasionally interrupted by an admonishment from Lucio to be _careful,_ damnit, _you heard what Jack said_.

 

            Twenty minutes, one hurried trip to the medbay and five stitches later, all knives not made of plastic in Watchpoint: Gibraltar had been systematically rounded up and deposited in a locked box in Jack Morrison's office. Hana whined loudly as Jack attempted to also confiscate her pain meds (“ _as punishment for being an idiot_ ,” he’d snapped), only to be stopped by threats from Angela to withhold healing during the next mission. Jack grumbled, shoving the pill bottle back into Hana's hands before storming off.

            “Well, that went about as well as could be expected.” McCree drawled, lighting up a cigarillo as he dropped down into his usual spot on the roof beside a meditating Hanzo later that night. Hanzo briefly opened one eye, peering down at the cowboy as he wrapped his serape closer around himself and lay back.

            “You should not have encouraged her.” Hanzo mused, closing his eye and facing forward once more. McCree scoffed.

            “Ah, hell, if I hadn'a shown her then she jus' would'a gone off an' done it herself. Prob'ly would'a done a lot more'n just knicked her finger, too.” McCree released a large puff of smoke, which was promptly picked up by a soft breeze and swept straight into Hanzo's face. The archer grimaced and  flapped a hand in front of his nose, trying to dispel the offending cloud as McCree sheepishly muttered an apology and carefully aimed the next puff behind them. A long stretch of time passed in companionable silence as McCree puffed away at his cigarillo, watching Hanzo meditate out of the corner of his eye. It was the only time he knew of that the archer ever looked truly relaxed, and McCree wondered for a moment if he looked this peaceful while sleeping. He quickly buried his face into his serape, blaming the heat in his face on stray bits of ash from his cigarillo.

            “I am still interested in learning that game of yours,” Hanzo said suddenly, startling McCree into a half-seated position. Hanzo kept his eyes resolutely shut as the memory of McCree's hand on his own came flooding back. “I believe it would be a useful means of practice for improving my coordination.”

            “'Course,” McCree said a little too enthusiastically, snuffing out his cigarillo and sitting up. Hanzo relaxed into a more casual position than the one he used for meditation, turning to look at the cowboy expectantly. McCree shifted a bit closer, allowing their knees to brush together. His stomach did a small flip of joy when Hanzo made no attempt to move away. “You, uh, wanna start now?”

            Hanzo nodded, and McCree had to stop himself from staring as the archer flashed him a true, albeit small, smile. Feeling emboldened, McCree shifted himself further back onto the roof and spread his legs out to either side. Hanzo's eyebrows immediately darted dangerously close to his hairline, and McCree laughed in embarrassment.

            “This'll work better if we're sittin' close together, darlin',” McCree explained, tucking his legs closer to his body in what he hoped made him look slightly more modest. Hanzo merely watched him for a moment, scrutinizing his face before turning away and getting to his knees. McCree opened his mouth to start a steady stream of apologies, only to have his breath catch in his chest as Hanzo pushed himself backwards and into McCree's arms. There was a pause as both men adjusted to the idea that this was actually happening, and McCree gently reached down and took Hanzo's hand in his own, fingers splaying automatically as they came to rest against his knee.

            “Now, uh, we prob'ly shouldn' be usin' an actual knife in this situation,” McCree began. His face flushed as he heard his voice crack slightly, and he paused to clear his throat. “So, we'll try this instead.” With some difficulty and a brush of bodies that nearly threw his attention straight off the roof, McCree managed to extract a new cigarillo from his pocket and pressed it into Hanzo's palm, manipulating the archer's fingers to hold it as he would a knife. He wrapped his own hand around Hanzo's, guiding it across their bodies to rest on Hanzo's knee, just below the splay of their fingers. McCree shifted slightly, resting his chin on Hanzo's shoulder to allow himself a better view of their hands, and softly began to sing.

            “ _Oh, I have all my fingers, the knife goes chop, chop, chop._

 _If I miss the spaces in between, my fingers will come off,”  
  
_             Their hands moved slowly and carefully from one position to the next, Hanzo's arm completely relaxed and trusting in McCree's grip. For the second time that night, McCree marveled at how smooth the archer's skin felt against his own.  
  
            “ _And if I hit my fingers, blood will soon come out -_

 _But, all the same, I play this game, ‘cause –_ whoops,”  
  
              McCree had glanced away from their hands just for a moment, only to find that the object of his affections had turned his head slightly and was looking back at him, paying very little attention to the movements of the stand-in for a knife in his grasp. Two pairs of deep brown eyes locked onto each other, and the cigarillo in their hands dropped to the roof, rolling for a short distance before falling over the edge. Neither of them bothered to chase after it.  
  
             “That was my last one, darlin',” McCree teased, laughter dying in his throat as Hanzo's expression suddenly became what the cowboy could only describe as absolutely _determined_. Hanzo shifted, half-facing McCree as he gently grabbed the fabric of his casual flannel shirt in his fist.  
  
             “Then we will have to find some other means of occupying your mouth.” Hanzo murmured. Any smart comeback McCree might have mustered was quickly swallowed by the soft press of lips against his own, and the cowboy responded in earnest, wrapping both arms around the archer and pulling him flush against his chest. Several long moments passed, with neither man wanting to be the first to break the kiss. Eventually they were forced to part for air, though they didn't go far. McCree gazed down in amazement at the older man in his arms, who turned absolutely red at the adoration on McCree’s face and looked away. McCree made a noise reminiscent of a whine and gently pressed a finger up under Hanzo's chin.  
  
            “C'mon, sweetheart, you know how long I’ve been waitin’ to get this good a look at ya?” McCree pouted, earning himself a scoff and an eyeroll.  
  
            “You have been able to look at me for several months now, _cowman_.” Hanzo retaliated, though this time when McCree smiled down at him, he did not look away.

            “Not this close, I haven’t,” McCree raised a hand to Hanzo’s face, gently rubbing at a cheekbone with his thumb. “And damned if you ain’t just the prettiest thing I ever did see.” He chuckled as Hanzo groaned at the compliment, nuzzling his face into the crook of McCree’s neck.

            “Jesse?” Hanzo murmured after a moment. McCree felt warmth spread through his chest at the use of his first name.

            “Yeah, darlin’?” McCree responded, running a hand over Hanzo’s hair. There was a slight pause, then -

            “Remind me to injure my brother later.” Hanzo growled. McCree laughed, lifting Hanzo’s face to his for another kiss.

            “Anythin’ you say, darlin’.”

**Author's Note:**

> *Smashes pots and pans together* I'M IN MCHANZO HELL AND I'M DRAGGING YOU ALL DOWN WITH ME. Inspiration for this came from a video over on tumblr, which you can find over at http://octoberjr.tumblr.com/post/153436397344/todays-feeling


End file.
